Odd One Out

CHAPTER 22

Naya
Sunday, November 2

The loud music booming through the speakers was making my head throb along with the beat, and I did what any sane person would do at 8:15 in the morning: I put a pillow over my head, hoping to block out the noise.

It worked for a second, until the door to my room burst open with a loud bang, letting all the different sounds rush into my room like wildfire.

"Naya, sweetheart, feliz Día de Muertos!"

"Y'know," I muttered out through the pillow, "you don't have to do this every year."

"Of course I do. So get up, we're eating breakfast."

I grunted as I removed the pillow, scrunching my face once I realized that I had no more protection against the loud mariachi music ringing throughout.

"You can do it for Christmas or even New Years, but Dia de Los Muertos is the wrong holiday to celebrate this early in the morning."

My dad let out an exaggerated sigh by the doorframe, shaking his head. "In Mexico, we celebrate today all day long, mija. And as long as I'm alive, I'm not letting that tradition die."

I rolled my eyes playfully, shoving past him to turn down the music that was coming from the kitchen where I also found a bunch of pan dulce was waiting for me, along with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate.

My dad had always been very excited about these days, even when mom was here. He had a passion for his culture and made sure to never hide it, always parading around with some sort of emblem of it. His very first tattoo, on the left side of his chest, was the Mexican flag — snake-grappling-eagle and all.

And I loved that about him, but sometimes I feared I was disappointing him by not being...cultural enough. I wasn't like him; I didn't parade around with my colors and roots and family traditions, even if I really liked them. I feared I wasn't enough for him.

As I sipped on the hot chocolate, I tried to ignore my thoughts, trying to let them melt with the heat from my drink. My dad seemed to notice how uneasy I was feeling, because he subtly started to turn the music down to an appropriate level. He bent a concha and took a bite out of one of the halves, setting the other one down on his plate.

"You gonna tell what happened?" he suddenly stated, making me look up from my cup.

"What do you mean?"

He took another dad-bite out of his sweet bread and set the remainder of the second half down, rubbing his hands slightly to rid them of any remaining crumbs or sugar. He turned back to me.

"You seem off. I admit waking someone up so abruptly may cause them to feel a little angry, but your mind seems distant."

"It's nothing."

"Sure, nothing...that you want to tell me."

I sighed. It was difficult for me to keep things from him, but also very embarrassing to have to admit them, so I wasn't sure what to say next.

"The case, that's all. My friends and I, we're trying to clear our names because the entire world clearly thinks we did something very wrong, and I'm just so scared of disappointing you any further."

"Disappointing me?" he asked with surprise. "Why would you disappoint me?"

"Well, I don't know...being in the headlights for a crime I did or did not commit, being a little distant from my culture, being a little distant from you...I don't know. Insignificant things like that."

He chuckled, scoffing a little. "Those are insignificant? Sweetheart, I think you brought up some of the deepest topics of conversation. I don't think they're insignificant."